


Never Saw You Coming

by Linsky



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - High School, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Knotting, Lactation Kink, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nipple Play, Plausible Deniability, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-17 01:11:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11840859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linsky/pseuds/Linsky
Summary: Jordan’s always been kind of jealous of people with dynamics, like Taylor.





	Never Saw You Coming

**Author's Note:**

> This is a thing I wrote yesterday, because apparently these two got in my head. I…I’m sorry??
> 
> I played with a/b/o conventions in this a bit. Also, they’re both like seventeen. Real-life age gap (small as it is) ignored.
> 
> [Tumblr](https://linskywords.tumblr.com/)!

Jordan’s always been kind of jealous of people with dynamics, like Taylor.

Don’t get him wrong—he likes being a beta. Beta girls are awesome. He’s slept with two of them, and both times it was great. It’s just that there’s this…charge, maybe?…between Taylor and some of the omegas in school. Jordan’s not even sure how to describe it. It’s like there’s an extra energy around them sometimes when they interact. Jordan’s never seen anything like it between betas. It’s hard to look away from.

So, yeah, he’s not unhappy with being a beta. He just thinks being an alpha or an omega might be more fun.

“Uh, no, it wouldn’t,” Taylor says when Jordan admits that one day. “Are you kidding? It sucks.”

“More interesting than being a beta,” Jordan says.

“At least you get to have sex,” Taylor says. “You don’t have to worry that you might _bond_ or whatever.”

And yeah, Jordan gets that. It probably would suck, knowing that if you slept with the wrong person you might end up getting bonded to them for life. Jordan’s pretty sure his parents were relieved when age fifteen came and went without him having a heat or a rut or anything. And Taylor’s his best friend. Jordan doesn’t really want him to bond with anyone, right now. But still, sometimes one of the omega girls at school will flirt with Taylor in the lunchroom, and it’ll hook Jordan under the stomach and he won’t be able to look away.

He always does, eventually. There’s no point in being jealous of a dynamic he can never have.

***

He tries not to talk to Taylor about it much. He doesn’t want to seem weird or anything. But sometimes he does a bad job of it.

They’re waiting for math class to start on Tuesday afternoon. Jordan’s already having a crappy day: he couldn’t wake up on time, he was late for a quiz in Biology, and he must not have had enough to eat at lunch, because now he’s feeling all weird and cranky. And now Dana Lewis is flirting with Taylor, turned all the way around at her desk so that she’s actually straddling the chair while she talks about the Flames game last night.

Jordan can’t blame anyone for talking about hockey—it’s, like, fifty percent of what he and Taylor talk about—but it’s the way she’s doing it. Leaning in, eyelashes fluttering, cleavage showing, all of her alive with that weird glow omegas seem to get around alphas sometimes. And Taylor’s just as bad: slouching in his chair with his legs splayed, doing that thing he does sometimes where he bites his bottom lip and lets it slide back out through his teeth. As if he needed to remind anyone that his lips are fucking ridiculous.

“Ugh,” Jordan says, and he doesn’t really mean for anyone to hear it, but Taylor looks over, startled.

“What?” he asks Jordan, leaning his way so Dana won’t be able to hear.

Jordan scribbles on his worksheet with his pencil. “Sorry. Nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing,” Taylor says.

Jordan jabs at the paper. He shouldn’t have said anything. Seriously, this day is the worst. “You guys were just doing your…dynamic thing,” he says. “It was just annoying, okay?”

Taylor goes all stiff. “What, I’m not allowed to flirt with people?”

“I didn’t say that,” Jordan says.

“You kinda did,” Taylor says.

He sounds really pissed. “Okay, then, sorry,” Jordan says.

Taylor looks at him for a second. “Whatever,” he says finally, and turns back to his own desk.

He looks really mad. Jordan knows he should offer something better than a halfhearted apology, but he’s still annoyed and he can’t think of anything. He scribbles a solid rectangle on his worksheet instead while Ms. Hurley talks about cosines.

Taylor leaves without talking to him after class, and by the end of the day Jordan feels bad enough about it not to care what he was pissy about in the first place. He just wants to fix it.

He goes over to Taylor’s locker when last period lets out. Taylor’s already there, putting his books away, and Jordan leans his back against the locker next to him. “Hey.”

Taylor gives him a wary look. “Hey.”

“Sorry for being a dick earlier.” Jordan catches the cuff of Taylor’s sweatshirt sleeve and tugs on it a little. “I was in a weird mood and, like, didn’t eat enough. Still want me to come over?”

“Duh,” Taylor says, still sounding annoyed, but his face breaks into a smile. They go over to Taylor’s house after school almost every day that they don’t have practice: Jordan has three siblings, and Taylor has none, and Taylor’s parents both work, so Taylor gets lonely and bored rattling around an empty house after school. And Jordan likes it better than the madhouse that’s his own place.

“I’m still hungry, though, so you’re gonna have to feed me,” Jordan says.

“Loser.” Taylor tugs his sweatshirt cuff out of Jordan’s hand and shoves his face away, but in a nice way.

They eat something and mess around with free weights in Taylor’s garage for a while, because they have to stay in shape for hockey. It’s really hot in the garage, like, even hotter than usual, and afterward they’re gross and sweaty so they grab showers and change into a couple pairs of Taylor’s basketball shorts. Jordan chirps Taylor that they won’t fit him because Taylor’s ass is so big, but of course they do. Jordan plays hockey, too.

They play video games for a little bit and then they’re supposed to do their homework, but instead they end up lying on Taylor’s bed, textbooks technically there but mostly just talking. These are some of Jordan’s favorite times, honestly: when it’s just the two of them and nothing else seems to matter, nothing beyond this room and the bed and the two of them saying whatever they feel like.

Right now, Taylor’s giving Jordan grief about whether he’s going to ask this girl in their history class to Prom. It’s not a weird topic, but it’s kind of close to the stuff from math class today, so it’s a little awkward.

“Yeah, I don’t know, I might,” Jordan says. “She seems okay.”

Taylor snickers. “‘She seems okay.’ Yeah, you’re totally gonna win her over with that one.”

“Shut up, like you know what to do with girls,” Jordan says.

“Hey,” Taylor says. “I know what to do with a girl.”

“Yeah, right, Mr. Virgin,” Jordan says, poking him in the side. Taylor huffs a laugh and curls up reflexively.

“I know stuff.” He rearranges himself on his side, facing Jordan, up on one elbow. It shows off how built his shoulders are getting. Jordan makes a note to tell him that, next time they’re lifting. “I know lots of stuff.”

“Yeah?” Jordan smirks. “Like what?”

“Like,” Taylor says, drawing the word out, “I know how to lick a girl’s nipples until she begs for it.”

Jordan draws in a quick breath. He—he wasn’t expecting that, and maybe it shouldn’t be shocking, but it is. He’s suddenly very conscious of his own nipples, which probably mean they’re getting hard. He hopes Taylor doesn’t notice.

“Yeah, right,” he says when he’s let the shock roll through him.

“I can.” Taylor flicks his tongue out, and Jordan follow it with his eyes. “Maggie told me how to do it. You’ve got to, like, tease them and stuff.”

“Get them leaking?” Jordan asks, and it’s a miracle his voice doesn’t crack.

“If she’s an omega, yeah,” Taylor says.

Jordan doesn’t know why the idea of Taylor doing it to someone who isn’t an omega grabs him so hard, but it does. He fights to keep his breathing steady, to not, like, be all weird about this. “I call bullshit,” he says. “No way can you know how to do it if you’ve never tried it.”

“Do so,” Taylor says.

He’s still up on his elbow, looking at Jordan in defiance, his eyes bright and his face all alive like—like when he’s talking to one of the omegas at school. But this is for Jordan. Jordan’s heart is thumping hard, his pulse fast in his throat, in his fingertips. “Prove it,” he says.

Taylor looks at him for a long, suspended moment where Jordan can hardly breathe. Then: “Okay,” Taylor says, and it’s somehow not a surprise at all when he leans down and touches the tip of his tongue to Jordan’s nipple.

Jordan almost crashes their heads together, he curves his back so hard at the jolt that sends to his nerves. A crackling, all over his skin, so that he has to suck in air. He falls back against the pillows, and Taylor darts his tongue out, licks again.

Holy fuck. This is…Jordan’s never felt anything like this before. He has to keep his mouth open so that his breathing isn’t embarrassingly loud. The tip of Taylor’s tongue teases at the hard peak of his nipple, and then it rubs back and forth, the flat of it rasping against the sensitive nerves. Still light, so light, and yet it’s sparking heat in Jordan’s stomach, in his groin. He can feel his cock filling more with each pass.

Taylor lifts his head and looks at Jordan’s face. “Believe me yet?” he asks.

His lips are shiny wet, his eyes kind of glazed. Jordan blinks at him, eyelids heavy, and can’t think past the desire to have Taylor’s mouth back there. “I don’t know,” he says. “You might need to prove it more.”

Taylor looks at him for another moment, pupils blown wide. Then he lowers his mouth again and licks, licks, and Jordan gasps for air and feels his cock straining against his shorts.

Taylor wasn’t lying about knowing what to do. He flicks his tongue against the hard little nub, mostly light, but every once in a while he’ll push in harder and make Jordan’s breath catch on an edge of sound. Then his teeth graze the skin, and oh—Jordan’s cock jerks in his shorts, throbbing hard.

Taylor raises his head again. “Yeah?” he asks, voice hoarse.

Jordan threads his fingers through the hair on the back of Taylor’s head. Can’t even think about whether he should or not, or if it’s weird—just needs to reach out, to touch. “Yeah,” he says, no idea what he’s saying. “Yeah, come on—oh!”

He breaks off, because Taylor starts to suck.

The sucking is totally different from the licking. It sends a rolling wave of heat through his whole body, makes him ache—in his groin, in his gut, in his other nipple, the one that’s standing up hard and untouched. His chest is heaving now under Taylor’s mouth, and Taylor sucks harder, like he’s trying to draw something out of him. His hand comes to rest on Jordan’s stomach. The touch turns the spark in Jordan’s gut into a fire: burning painfully deep, a blazing need in his center.

His other nipple is pricking now, little flashes of pain, like it can’t stand not being touched. Jordan wants to ask Taylor to switch to that one, or at least put his hand on it, but he’s not sure how to do it without sounding horribly needy. So he puts his own hand on it, pushes down on it, squeezes it, feels a trickle of something running over his fingers, wet and hot—

Taylor makes a noise. He sucks again, hard, and Jordan can tell it’s different this time: the way it tugs on something inside of him, drawing it up and out. The way it must be filling up Taylor’s mouth with liquid. With milk.

Taylor swallows, sucks again, and again, and then looks up in astonishment. “But you’re seventeen,” he says.

Jordan moans. “Taylor,” he says, and what he means is, _Oh my god, don’t stop._ Taylor must get it, because he bends his head and sucks again, greedily. Jordan plays with his other nipple and lets the milk run over his hand and squirms on the bed because fuck, his whole body feels desperate now, every nerve lit up and dying to be touched.

“Please,” he says when he can’t take it anymore, and Taylor moves over to the other nipple, scraping it with his teeth and then sucking hard. It’s a relief, but it ramps everything else in his body up, his cock throbbing in time with Taylor’s suction. “Please,” he says again, and Taylor gets it and reaches down to his cock—or no, not to his cock: to his ass, the heel of his hand grinding in between his cheeks right over his hole, and the burst of sensation is so strong Jordan shouts.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Taylor says, lifting his face from Jordan’s chest, his mouth shiny with milk. Jordan thinks he just means his chest, or maybe his cock, but Taylor presses again over his hole and Jordan can feel the slick between his skin and the shorts. He stares at Taylor, mouth working helplessly, and Taylor leans up and takes his mouth in a kiss.

The kiss lights him up as much as the touch on his nipples did, or maybe it’s just that any touch would feel good right now, when his body’s this ragingly hungry. Taylor’s tongue is in his mouth, fucking into him, and his hand has worked its way up through the leg of Jordan’s shorts to rub over the outside of his hole. Everything down there is soaking wet with slick, his hole clenching in rhythm, and for the first time Jordan lets himself think, _Heat; I’m in—_

Taylor breaks the kiss and says, voice broken, “I need to taste you.” His hips bump up against Jordan’s leg, the hard bulge of his cock making Jordan’s breath stutter. “Please, can I—”

“Yeah,” Jordan says, because what else has Taylor been doing so far? But then Taylor moves away, away from Jordan’s mouth, his nipples, and Jordan’s body is screaming out a protest—he needs more—he needs so much—

Taylor manhandles him onto his knees and pulls his shorts down, and the touch of his tongue to Jordan’s hole makes him sob into the pillow. It feels amazing, nerves flaring to life everywhere Taylor’s tongue touches, and Jordan can feel the way more slick gushes out. Taylor licks in like he’s starving for it, probably getting his face wet and sticky and Jordan doesn’t care, he doesn’t care what happens as long as Taylor doesn’t stop.

It pulls on something inside of him, building a knot of frustration at the base of his spine. Taylor’s tongue is good, it’s great, but it isn’t enough: Jordan needs to be fuller, needs Taylor to be inside of him. “Fuck me,” he gasps into the pillow. “Fuck me, please fuck me,” and Taylor moans and bites at his butt cheek.

“We can’t,” he mumbles into Jordan’s skin. “Jordan, baby, we can’t. We might bond, it’s…”

“I don’t care,” Jordan says. He really doesn’t, and it’s not just because he wants Taylor to fuck him so badly right now. It’s the idea of Taylor, forever. How could Jordan want anything other than that? “Come on, bond with me. Give me your knot.”

Taylor makes a punched-out sound. “Fuck, it just started to pop,” he says, and Jordan feels like he’s going to go crazy: like he’s going to burn up from wanting this so badly. “Are you—”

“ _Taylor._ ” Jordan reaches his hand back blindly, gropes for Taylor’s hand, and it’s there, grasping his tight. “Come on. It’s—it’s _you._ ”

_And it’s me,_ he means; _it’s us,_ and Taylor fucking whimpers and digs his fingers into Jordan’s hips. Jordan’s about to say something else, plead some more, but then feels something bumping against his hole. He knows what it is, feels his heart rate spike.

“Fucking hell, Jordan, I want,” Taylor says, voice shot, and Jordan says, “Yeah,” and then oh, oh god, there’s pressure at his hole, thank fuck, sweet hot pressure opening him up as Taylor slides inside and…

“Yeah,” Jordan groans into the pillow, “yeah,” and he can hear Taylor’s breathing loud and desperate as his hips snap in. Every thrust pushes against all the parts of him, against his stomach lungs ribs thighs cock, lighting everything up and making it so, so good. Jordan shoves back into it to make him go faster. There’s resistance: a little extra push needed to get all of Taylor’s cock into him, and Jordan feels a wave of dizziness when he realizes it’s Taylor’s knot.

“Oh my god, Jordan,” Taylor says, “oh my god, you feel…” And then there’s more resistance, shoving hard at his rim and giving him a jolt of pleasure-pain all the way up to his throat, and then Taylor is grinding in, and in, that knot pushing against something that is _the best feeling in the world_ and Jordan is coming, ropes of it torn out of him by the unbelievable feeling of Taylor’s knot.

“Jordan,” Taylor wails, and Jordan can feel the swelling in his knot when he comes, too. They crash down together, Jordan falling on his side and Taylor going with him, cock snug in his ass, skin slick with sweat and all their muscles limp like spaghetti.

Taylor gathers him close and wraps around him, an arm around his waist, hand pressed flat against his chest. “Oh wow,” Taylor says.

“Mm.” Jordan’s ability to speak might have been short-circuited by the incredible feeling of Taylor coming in his ass.

“Did you know?” Taylor asks. “That you were an omega?”

“No,” Jordan says. He might normally add “dumbass,” but Taylor’s cock is knotted in him and he feels so good right now and he can’t even be snarky. He threads his fingers through Taylor’s, pressed to his chest, and then he brings Taylor’s hand up to his mouth and sucks on the index finger, on the thumb. “Was always jealous, though,” he mumbles. “Of you and omegas.”

Taylor’s face presses against the back of Jordan’s neck. “Yeah,” he says against the skin. “I mean, I think maybe that’s why I was so careful not to bond with anyone. ’Cause, like. There wasn’t ever anyone I wanted to be with more than I wanted to be with you.”

Jordan moans and sucks harder on Taylor’s fingers. “Wanna kiss you,” he says.

“Later,” Taylor says drowsily. “We’ve got plenty of—oh, shit. You’re in heat. We have to, like, tell people.”

“Ugh, do not,” Jordan says, but Taylor leans over him and grabs his phone from the nightstand. It makes his knot tug at Jordan’s insides, makes him shiver.

“I’m just gonna text my mom,” Taylor says, fingers tapping at the phone. “Jordan…in…heat…bring…Gatorade.”

Jordan groans. “Oh my god, do not tell her that.”

“I have to.” Taylor nuzzles the back of his neck and puts the phone down to wrap his hand around Jordan’s cock. “You’re gonna come so many times. You need fluids.”

Jordan focuses on sucking in enough air while Taylor’s hand strokes up and down his cock. He would have said this was too fast for him to get it up again, but his whole body feels new, and Taylor’s knot is nudging that bright spot inside and making him really glad for what Taylor’s doing to his cock. “That’s—the first time you’ve touched me there.”

“We’re going to have time for so much stuff,” Taylor says, breath skating over Jordan’s skin as his thumb rubs through the precome at the tip of Jordan’s cock. “Like, a whole lifetime, Ebby, oh my god.”

“Yeah.” Jordan reaches back for Taylor’s hip, just to hold on, and gasps when Taylor twists his hand just right. He’s going to have a whole lifetime of this.

He can’t wait.


End file.
